


neighbourly

by sky_reid



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Neighbors, Cake, Friends to Lovers, Liam is kind of there, M/M, Neighbors, Tacos, Unresolved Sexual Tension, aha! that's closer, erm i think that's kind of it???, there's no real university happenings but that's the closest i could think of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-15
Updated: 2014-10-15
Packaged: 2018-02-21 07:03:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,019
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2459174
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sky_reid/pseuds/sky_reid
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>the one where louis and zayn move in across the hall from harry and niall and harry is the best neighbour ever.</p>
            </blockquote>





	neighbourly

**Author's Note:**

> inspired by international days celebrating: being good neighbours, tacos, cake decorating
> 
> this is only my second 1d fic and the first one was some rly angsty canon so idk how i feel abt it but hopefully i didn't do too badly??? oh, right, i tried to keep it not-american, sorry if i failed too terribly?

 

_neighbourly_

 

Louis digs his phone from between the couch cushions. The sky is a clear blue for once and he can smell summer in the air; he almost hopes Zayn's texting to say he'll be late. That is, until he actually sees the text.

 

_class moved fr 3 cant make it bfor 7 sorryyyyyyy :(((_

 

Louis checks the clock in the corner of the screen. The idea of lazing around outside for close to five hours is tempting even though his laptop's already dead and his phone isn't far off. Really, Louis isn't sure there is anything he wouldn't find tempting when the alternative is lugging all of his _and_ Zayn's shit up to the third floor on his own. He wonders how long before someone kicks him off the pavement, furniture and boxes and all.

 

 _and here i was thinking u'd love an excuse to get sweaty w/ liam_ , he texts Zayn. The reply is almost immediate.

 

_he almost read tht u prick_

 

Louis laughs and throws his phone towards where his feet are propped up on the armrest. He really should be more concerned about the fact that he's about to doze off practically in the middle of the street leaving virtually everything he owns for other broke students he suspects are gonna be his neighbours to scavenge, but the sun is warming his skin and there's a light breeze carding through his loose fringe and him and Zayn are moving into their own flat today and somehow everything is okay.

 

He's not sure how long he spends drifting in and out of a light nap listening to footsteps and bits of conversation and the odd car passing him by when someone clears their throat directly above him.

 

“Alright there, mate?” asks someone sounding so distinctly Irish, Louis half expects him to be wearing an Irish flag. He laughs a little at the mental image and wonders if it's at all possible that he's still high from last night. He feels like it a bit.

 

He hums but doesn't open his eyes. “Just don't steal from the boxes marked with _L_ ,” he says instead. A snort and a loud bark of laughter follow his words, then the sound of someone clapping a hand over their mouth and Louis realizes the Irishman is not alone. He cracks an eye open then, is met by a wholly unfamiliar face right above his own, shockingly close as a boy with the brightest green eyes and the softest curly hair and the widest smile and the cutest dimples leans over the back of the couch. Louis feels his lips stretching into an easy smile of his own and the boy above him looks somehow, impossibly, even more delighted.

 

“Moving in then?” Ireland personified asks. Louis has trouble tearing his eyes away from the boy who's still grinning at him so he doesn't. He thinks maybe they should be having some sort of a meaningful conversation with just their eyes. As is, the only thing Louis is getting is just how _happy_ the boy looks. It's radiating off his face and Louis maybe basks in it a little. “Wait, are you moving into 7b?”

 

“Erm.” The little plastic keyring has a number on it but bugger if Louis can remember it now. He shrugs instead. He wriggles around to get at the key in his pocket but ends up shoving his face into the (frankly offensively fruity smelling) curls casually cascading into his personal space.

 

The boy turns so that Louis is right up in his face instead of his hair, but doesn't actually move away. “Oops,” he says, not looking remotely sorry. It's the first Louis's heard of his voice. It's a shame really. He feels the breath that comes with the word ghost over his face and god help him he's about half a second from pulling this kid down into a snog.

 

“Hi,” he says just for something to do. The boy looks at him for a moment longer before _giggling_ and stepping a little further away. Louis waits for that pang of insecurity or nerves or disappointment or _something_. It never comes. He watches the bob of the boy's throat, the dimple on his cheek, his lips pulled in a smile like that's the only thing they ever do; he smiles back. It's just that kind of day.

 

“Jesus, Harry.” And oh, Louis had quite forgotten they weren't alone. He has a name to attach to the face now, though, so he's not gonna complain. Harry. He almost looks bashful for a second there, but then his friend just shakes his head with a smile and he grins at Louis. There's really not much Louis can do other than grin back.

 

“Do you need any help then?” Harry asks suddenly, frowning as he looks around at the sea of mismatched second-hand furniture and boxes of knick-knacks marked in Zayn's stark _Z_ s and Louis's lazy _L_ s.

 

“Well, my flatmate and his would-be boyfriend were supposed to be here,” Louis shrugs, “but I guess _Homoeroticism in Modern Literature_ takes precedence over moving in.” He looks at Harry and winks. “Not that I don't understand that.” Harry grins.

 

“For fuck's sake,” the Irish boy curses through a laugh. “I'm Niall! How lovely to meet you!” he greets with an exaggerated bow. “You were about to thank us for offering but politely refuse our help with dragging a metric fuckton of crap to _probably_ the apartment next door to us. Also tell us your name, that would be nice.”

 

Harry shakes his head like this is all just an everyday occurrence. There's a light blush on his cheeks that Louis would really like to touch. With his mouth. “Don't listen to him,” Harry says, like Louis has been hearing a word of what Niall's been saying anyway, “we'll definitely help, if you need, um...?”

 

“Louis,” Louis supplies.

 

“Louis,” Harry repeats, looking a bit dazed. Louis wonders if Harry's also imagining all the different inflections the word could take.

 

Niall buries his face in his hands. “Can we please just... _do_ something. Anything,” he mumbles. “The sexual tension is suffocating me here.”

 

Harry looks entirely unapologetic. Louis grins at him. “You can help me move in.” He checks the keyring still clutched in his hand. “Apartment 7b it is.”

 

“Of course we'll help,” Harry agrees at the same time as Niall says, “Yeah, not like we were going anywhere.” They share what looks from Louis's point of view like one of those silent conversations with facial expressions that he sometimes has with Zayn. Zayn's gonna like them, he thinks.

 

Finally Niall huffs and raises his hands in surrender. “Fine, fine. My mum raised me to be neighbourly after all.”

 

And that's how Harry and Niall end up doing all the literal heavy lifting while Louis directs them from the sidelines. It's a good start.

 

*

 

 _It's way too early_ is Louis's first thought. _Shut up, Zayn_ is the second. He doesn't think he voices that one, or if he does, Zayn ignores him. He buries his face back in his tea.

 

“I told you to buy milk, Lou, _fuck_ ,” Zayn continues complaining. “We've talked about this, it's not like I'm asking you to make me a five-course meal every day, it's _shopping_ _once a week_. You _said_ you would keep up with it!”

 

Louis sighs loudly enough to drown out Zayn's continued whinging. It's like Zayn hasn't had enough time to get used to this already despite Louis having taken great care to ensure Zayn's expectations of his being a good flatmate are low. He finishes off his tea and stands up. “Fine,” he says, “I'm going, I'm buying you fucking milk. At 7 in the fucking morning.”

 

“Well you could've done it before we ran out. Like, yesterday for example,” Zayn replies, making no move to stop Louis from picking up his wallet. Really, Louis might be a shit roommate, but Zayn is a shit friend. Who makes their friends get out of the flat before the hour is in double digits? Louis makes sure the door shuts as loudly as possible behind him.

 

He's stumbling down the stairs, just about awake enough to stay upright, when he runs into someone. Someone tall and strong who smells like fruit and summer and sunshine. Louis may still be a tiny bit asleep. He may also have been paying a bit too much attention to one of his neighbours over the last couple of weeks. What, they're friends, it's totally normal.

 

“Oh, sorry! Wasn't paying attention,” Harry apologizes, bright and polite as ever despite the obnoxiously early hour. “Early morning today?”

 

“I didn't buy milk,” Louis replies. It explains everything in his mind but Harry looks puzzled. “Zayn's kicked me out,” Louis elaborates which only serves to give Harry a hilarious expression somewhere between amused and nonplussed. “To the store,” Louis finally finishes. He thinks maybe that should've been a single sentence. He feels a little bit like facepalming. He's somehow managed not to embarrass himself in front of Harry in the dozen or so days they've known each other but then, they've never spoken this early in the morning. Louis is really, _really_ not a morning person.

 

Harry, bless his heart, doesn't seem to mind. “Oh, that sucks. Is milk all you need?”

 

“Um.” Louis actually has no idea. He probably should have checked.

 

“'Cause you can have ours. I just bought some. I was gonna make pancakes, but I can always just go with an omelette instead.” Harry looks at him expectantly. Louis is still kind of stuck on his first sentence and the fact that Harry Styles is a real person. “Unless one of you is lactose intolerant? I even have almond milk! Er, I think. Niall might've drunk it while I was at the store.”

 

“Um,” Louis just repeats eloquently. Harry blinks at him and in Louis's muddled brain it seems very slow. Louis briefly wonders if that's how Harry looks waking up. Before that can escape his mouth, he manages to string together an actual sensical sentence. “Are you for real?” Okay, maybe not the best sentence.

 

“What, about the milk? Yeah, of course, you can have it.”

 

Louis could kiss him right then and there. Except he probably doesn't taste the best. Or smell the best. And he wants it to be perfect when he kisses Harry. If. _If_ he kisses Harry. Obviously.

 

“You. You are the best neighbour ever.” God, Louis really needs to wake up soon, the shit that's leaving his mouth is criminal.

 

Harry, however, seems pleased with the compliment. He roots around his grocery bags and pulls out a bottle of milk he offers Louis. “Here.”

 

“Thanks.”

 

“No problem,” Harry grins. “Now, let's go appease Zayn.”

 

(Zayn just rolls his eyes when Louis bursts into the kitchen waxing euphoric about how wonderful Harry is. Louis is not sure Zayn has a leg to stand on considering he's still pining after Liam even though Louis, Niall _and_ Harry have repeatedly told him that there's no way Liam would say no to a date.)

 

*

 

Louis shoves his key in the door for what may or may not be the fourth time since he first left the flat. He considers calling Zayn again but he thinks Zayn might actually bite his head off when he gets home. He doesn't bother closing the door and runs straight to his bedroom where the other six (okay, maybe it's closer to sixteen) outfits he'd considered and rejected are scattered all over his bed and the floor. He strips out of the t-shirt he's wearing and puts on a grey button-down with a print. He's almost running out the door again when he catches sight of himself in the mirror and decides, again, that the print makes it too juvenile. He takes it off and starts digging through the pile of tops again. Maybe he should change his jeans too? Black jeggings don't really scream _professional_.

 

He nearly jumps out of his skin when he hears someone clearing their throat. He turns around to find Harry standing in the doorway, bottom lip pinched between thumb and forefinger. Louis wants to tug it out. With his teeth. Jesus, now is not the time. He's suddenly very aware of being shirtless. At least these jeans make his arse look fantastic.

 

“You, er. You look stressed,” Harry finally comments. Louis looks at the mirror just to check and yeah, Harry is being polite. He looks a mess.

 

He spares a thought for what could've been between him and Harry before starting on a rant that's sure to make him realise just how much of a mess Louis really _is_. “I have a job interview that I'm already late for. Across town might I add, and Zayn raided our rainy day fund which means I can't take a taxi so when I get there I will probably be disgusting and sweaty and smell like a hobo and that's all provided I pick something to wear so I can actually leave. I wanna look good, you know? Something young and modern that says _I'm cool and your kids are gonna like me_? But also _I'm an adult and you can trust me_. Without being too mature and condescending. I don't want to be sending a _this is beneath my education degree_ message.” He takes a deep breath and runs his hand through his hair. It's getting progressively harder to breathe even though he's stopped talking a mile a minute. He's all but forgotten that Harry's there until he feels a large warm hand on his shoulder.

 

“Breathe,” Harry says, rubbing over Louis's back. Louis focuses on that and tries to forget what time it is and where he should be now. “Will it be too awkward if I hug you right now?” When Louis laughs, it only sounds a little hysterical. Harry must take that for an answer because a second later Louis is wrapped up in one of the most comforting hugs he's ever had. He melts into it the way he always melts into Harry at the slightest touch. He's still half naked and he's pretty sure Harry didn't close the door which means anyone could walk by and see them, but the only thing Louis can focus on is the feel of Harry's arms around him, the touch of the naked skin of Harry's arms on his back.

 

“You smell like fruit,” he blurts. Harry huffs a laugh and hugs him tighter. Louis thinks he feels Harry's lips skimming his forehead. He decidedly does _not_ shiver.

 

“ _You_ smell amazing,” Harry says, stepping away. Louis instantly misses the heat of his body. “Now, put this on,” Harry grabs a sleeveless printed top from the bed and shoves it at him, “grab a jacket and here,” he digs around through his back pockets and takes out a few banknotes, “take a taxi and _go_.”

 

Louis stares at him, speechless. He wonders if Harry will ever stop surprising him. “I couldn't—“

 

“You'll pay me back,” Harry interrupts. “Now _go_ and rock their socks off. You'll be great.” Louis doesn't even have the time to protest because Harry is pushing him out the door, locking it and pocketing the key. “You can have it when you come back,” he says with a wink. Now locked outside of his own apartment and with no excuse not to be on his way, Louis feels the panic rising in him again. Harry grabs his shoulders and leans in. For one insane moment, Louis thinks Harry is gonna kiss him and his mind goes completely blank, void of all thoughts about jobs and interviews and nerves. Then Harry kisses his cheek, whispers, “You can do this. They'd be crazy not to hire you, you're amazing.” The words wash over him but the certainty in Harry's tone settles in Louis's stomach and spreads through his body until there's no space left for panic. He feels Harry smile against his skin a second before he steps away.

 

Louis wants to kiss him so suddenly and so badly, he feels dizzy with it.

 

“I need to go,” he says, not moving an inch.

 

Harry grins. “Yep. Good luck.”

 

“Yes. Yeah. Okay.”

 

Harry's quiet laugh follows him down the hallway and it's only once he's out of the building that he remembers he has no idea what Harry was even doing in his flat.

 

*

 

Tired does not even begin to cover how Louis is feeling. Zoey and Peter were having one of those days when no amount of scolding can get them to sit down and no amount of running tires them out, and it's all fun until it's not because unlike them, Louis is not four years old and he can't live on a sugar high all day. He remembers how happy and excited he was to move here, how great it felt to get a job so quickly and he really wishes he could tap into those feelings right now because he's so drained of everything that all he can think about is collapsing on his bed and falling asleep.

 

Zayn is supposed to be home so he didn't bring his key when he left; he slams right into the front door. Which doesn't budge. “Fucking motherfuck Zayn,” he grumbles though he hardly has the energy to genuinely feel angry. He jangles the doorknob like it might give after all. He really just wants to sleep for a week and he does _not_ appreciate the door standing in the way of that. He especially doesn't appreciate Zayn leaving when he _knows_ Louis doesn't have his key with him. He'd better be fucking Liam right now because Louis honestly can't think of another acceptable excuse.

 

He's seconds away from sitting down on the ground and just falling asleep right there when he notices a post-it note taped over their doorbell. It reads @ _n &h's for dinner tacos night join us_ and oh. Okay. Tacos do sound good. Not as good as sleep but still good. Seeing Harry also sounds good. Between Louis's job and Harry's exams they've hardly had time for each other lately (not that they need to be making time for each other, of course. They've been texting incessantly and really, that's more than Louis does with some of his other friends. And that's all they are. Friends. Of course. Fuck.). He does wish he looked less like a wet dishrag for their evening, but it is what it is.

 

He _really_ wishes he could've at least taken a shower because he probably smells like sweat and crayons and he feels pretty disgusting and he's not overly fond of the thought of Harry seeing him like this. There's nothing happening between them but Louis is sure he's not imagining how charged their interactions sometimes are and he still hopes something _might_ happen. Sometime. When Louis is not half asleep or running late or freaking out or out of milk or something equally ridiculous and inconvenient. He waits at the door for so long that he thinks maybe they've already finished dinner and gone out, but then he hears Harry on the other side of the door yelling about how _I swear I heard someone knocking,_ followed by Niall's unintelligible reply. When Harry opens the door, he's frowning over his shoulder, presumably at whatever Niall said.

 

Just seeing him makes Louis's entire body feel lighter. He smiles without even thinking about it. God, he really is quite gone for Harry. But then Harry sees _him_ and his smile is so immediate and genuine that Louis melts a little on the spot. “Hi,” he breathes, relaxing for the first time in hours.

 

Harry just smiles wider and pulls him in for a hug. “Hi,” he says right into Louis's ear. Louis marvels that his knees don't give out. “I feel like I haven't seen you in ages.”

 

“Yeah.” Louis doesn't cling onto Harry's shoulders. Well, maybe a little. But really, who can blame him, Harry smells amazing and Louis is a little in love. He kind of wants to fall asleep right there in Harry's arms. He feels Harry's nose press into his hair.

 

“You okay?” Harry asks quietly. “You're tense.”

 

“I'm tired. And I smell.”

 

Harry just buries his whole face in Louis's neck and walks them into the flat without letting go. Louis is more than _a little_ in love with him. “Come on, we saved you some tacos,” Harry says. He lets go of Louis but stays close and keeps an arm around his shoulders to guide him toward the kitchen. Louis may or may not lean into him a bit. It's because he's tired. Mostly. (It's because Harry smells good.) “Zayn went out with Liam, but he left your key here.”

 

“Oh, good, I thought I'd be sleeping in the hallway,” Louis jokes.

 

Harry stops dead in his tracks. He squeezes Louis's shoulder. Louis looks up at him, confused. Harry's face is oddly intense. “You are _always_ welcome here,” he says seriously, like it's really important for him that Louis knows this. “You can sleep here any time. If you get locked out again or something, we have a shower and a bed and clothes for you here, yeah?”

 

Louis is not sure how to react to that. He's too tired to really analyse what Harry is trying to get across so he doesn't even bother. “And food, right?” he teases instead of giving a real answer.

 

Harry smiles brightly. “You know I like feeding you. Speaking of which.” He takes a plate with tacos out of the oven and puts it on the table. “Unless you want to shower or take a nap first? I did mean that, you know.”

 

He looks so earnest and sweet that Louis has to do _something_. Ideally snog him senseless. Since now is really not the right time for that, Louis pulls on one of Harry's curls playfully and pinches his hip, making him giggle a little. “Thanks but food sounds great for now.”

 

Harry sits with him while he eats, looking at him with this openly fond expression that makes it a little hard to swallow and a lot hard not to blush. They end up snuggled on the couch watching shitty reality tv and Louis drifts off with his head on Harry's shoulder. He's not surprised that the last conscious thought he has is how he could live the rest of his life in this moment.

 

*

 

Zayn closes the cupboard with rather more force than necessary. Louis considers pointing out there's no point in putting breakable things away if you're gonna break them yourself before the guests even arrive, but he doesn't fancy having something chucked at his head.

 

“I swear to god, Lou, if I have to sit through another day of you two making googly eyes at each other and smothering us all with your unresolved sexual tension, I will strangle myself with a spoon.”

 

The image surprises a snort out of Louis and he chokes on his tea. “How the hell does that work!?”

 

Zayn gives him an unimpressed look. “Let's never find out,” he says pointedly. Louis just shrugs noncommittally. Just because Zayn is finally dating Liam now doesn't make him an expert on relationships, thank you very much. “Seriously, though, what's up with you two? Niall says you were ready to jump each other on the street the moment you met.” He makes it sound casual and disinterested but Louis knows him well enough to see through it.

 

“I don't know,” he replies with a shrug. It's not like Harry's been subtle, Louis is pretty sure he wouldn't get rejected if he made a move. But then, Harry hasn't made a move either. It makes Louis wonder. It's not that the connection between them has dulled, Louis still has butterflies in his stomach around Harry and he still feels electricity run through him when they touch and he still has moments when he _wants_ so much he can't breathe, but. But. It's like they've settled into this friends thing and now they're stuck there with neither of them doing anything to change it. It makes the niggling self-doubt he's tried so hard to get over resurface and he begins to question if every moment they share really is a _moment_. “It just hasn't happened.”

 

“So make it happen,” Zayn says, then ducks just in time to avoid Louis cuffing him on the head. “Alright, alright, I had that coming! But really. He's making cake for your party. It has _tiers_. Just imagine, he's gonna go full on _Cake Boss_ for your birthday.”

 

Louis laughs. He can actually see that happening. “Am I supposed to complain about that?”

 

Zayn shrugs. “I'm just saying, the kid's totally gone for you. And you've been pining for him for ages.”

 

Louis would correct him on principle alone (he doesn't _pine_ ), except, well, it's true. He just. He really likes Harry. “I just want it to be perfect,” he mumbles, playing with the loose threads in the knee of his jeans, “and it's never seemed like... the right moment.”

 

Zayn turns around from where he's trying to shove what seems like everything breakable they've ever owned on the top shelves of their cupboards. He gives Louis a curious look and cocks his head to the side. “Did you just...” Then he grins wickedly and no, Louis is not here for Zayn's teasing right now. He hops off the counter and heads out the door. He should probably check up on Harry, yes, that's a good idea. He still hears Zayn cooing after him. Whatever.

 

The door to Harry and Niall's is wide open. The flat smells _amazing_ , the rich aroma of dark chocolate mixing with the freshness of orange; Louis's mouth waters. He ruffles Niall's hair when he passes the sofa he's sprawled on and Niall curses at him in response. Just another casual afternoon then.

 

Harry is in the kitchen, a bright blue piping bag in hand and a flowery pink apron tied around his waist, a two-tiered fondant covered cake in front of him. There's flour smeared on his cheek and his tongue peeks out from between his lips as he concentrates on piping the perfect swirls of purple on the blue surface. He puffs out a breath to get a few loose curls out of his eyes, but they just keep falling out of his headscarf. He frowns at the cake like it's done him something terribly wrong. Louis is so endlessly charmed.

 

Harry must be so focused on his cake that he doesn't notice Louis approaching him because he jumps at the touch of Louis's hand on his shoulder and makes a frankly embarrassing squeak. Purple icing drips from the piping bag making a mess on the cake, the tabletop and the floor. Louis is laughing before Harry even has a chance to react to anything that's happening. When he can finally breathe again, he finds Harry looking at him with a pout, a mixture of amusement and frustration playing on his features. Louis wants to kiss him, taste the cake mixture he probably tried, feel Harry's large hands smearing icing over his cheeks.

 

So he does.

 

It's anything but perfect and everything Louis wanted to avoid; it's Niall cheering them on through a mouthful of nachos over the tinny sounds of FIFA in the background, it's icing on Louis's favourite t-shirt, it's Harry in a pink fucking apron, it's the corner of the table digging into Louis's stomach and Harry messing up the hours of work he did on the cake when he leans against it; it's uncoordinated, it's sloppy, it's Harry not kissing back immediately, it's Louis thinking about Zayn and what he's gonna say and wishing he _had_ taken Harry to the fanciest restaurant he could afford and walked him home with an arm around his waist. It doesn't feel _right_ , but Louis's been waiting to kiss Harry for so long he doesn't think he'd be able to stop now if his life depended on it; Harry's lips on his feel simultaneously like drowning and breathing for the first time.

 

Then Niall's greasy hand lands on Louis's shoulder with a loud slap and the moment is broken. Louis takes half a step back, but Harry's hand squeezing his hip stops him from moving further away. “Took you cunts long enough,” Niall says, grabs Harry's piping bag and walks away squeezing icing into his mouth. Louis snorts and watches him leave. Harry doesn't react. When Louis looks at him, he finds his eyes still closed and his shiny lips pulled in a dopey smile. He looks, well. Blissed out. Louis wants to keep that expression on his face forever. He runs a thumb over Harry's cheekbone. Harry leans into it.

 

“Hiiiii,” he says, his voice slightly breathy.

 

“You fucked up my cake,” Louis replies, still stroking the soft skin of Harry's face. Harry just grins and leans in for another kiss.

 

*

 

(Years later, when they have neighbours of their own, when they're living in a two-storey house and driving sensible cars, when Louis is working at the rundown local high school while Harry's art of him is showing in fancy galleries across the ocean, they're lying in bed, Louis's head pillowed on Harry's chest as he listens to the rhythmic heartbeat under his ear and Harry tells him that he'd wanted to kiss him from the second they met but never felt like the moment was perfect enough. Louis thinks back to their first kiss in Harry's messy kitchen with Niall watching, to their first date when they had to run from the restaurant because they realized too late that they couldn't afford the dinner, to their engagement when Louis dropped the ring three times only to find out it didn't even fit, to their wedding when Harry stumbled over his own feet while walking down the aisle and he thinks, maybe perfection is overrated.)

 


End file.
